


Grasping Revan

by TheRevanchist (FenVallas)



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gen, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenVallas/pseuds/TheRevanchist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is largely an attempt to become comfortable with writing KoToR and Revan. I may eventually have plans for something longer in this universe, but I don't know if I have the confidence, frankly speaking. I don't expect to work miracles, just get Revan out of my head and onto the page. He really fascinates me, which is why I've been drabbling so much about his experiences during KoToR recently. </p><p>I may eventually veer into the realm of comics Revan, but I'd have to find and read the comics, first. I refuse to write about a piece of media I've never consumed, so for now I'll just explore his character as it appears in KoToR.</p><p>Obviously, I also need to read the novel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Ebon Hawke was as silent as a tomb when Onasi finally emerged from the cockpit, looking as ashen as death. It had been a narrow escape, but he knew that wasn't what was on their pilot's mind. There were a million other, more pressing things, things that brought potent emotions to bear.

Jaycen could already feel Onasi's eyes boring into his back like a laser scope, and didn't need to see his expression to know how sharp it was. Hate seethed from him, almost pulsing in waves, mingled with uncertainty.

Just not enough uncertainty to give Jaycen hope.

"Well?" The word rang out, almost like the sound of flesh hitting flesh, punctuated by a sharp breath that hissed through little Mission's teeth. "Aren't you going to tell them?"

Jaycen -- No, not Jaycen, he didn't even know what his name actually **_was_** \-- raised his eyes to Onasi to find the man staring at him with murder in his expression. He wasn't surprised. He wished he could say he was, but he wasn't. Couldn't have this been avoided if he'd just been more honest with himself from the start?

But nothing would have come of him confessing his suspicions. He might not have even been believed. That was how discordant his actions were. That was how little sense this made.

"If you're so keen on dragging it kicking and screaming into the light --" Jaycen said at last, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat and blinking away the sting in his eyes -- **_Now was not the time_**. "If you're so keen on telling them, why don't you say it yourself?"

Onasi floundered with his words for a moment, looking almost comically like a Firaxxan Shark. A few weeks ago, Jaycen might have made the comparison out loud to diffuse the tense situation and get everyone back on track, but right now he didn't have it in him to so much as smile, let alone tell a joke.

He sighed.

"I understand, Onasi. It was always my intent to say something, I just..."

**_Bastilla._ **

"I just needed some time to sort through my thoughts."

There wasn't enough time in the galaxy to help him sort through his thoughts, but Onasi didn't need to know that. No one here did. The only one who he could have told was in Malak's hands now, and that wouldn't end well, not in the short term.

Onasi didn't seem sure what to say and his mouth snapped shut, his eyes still sharp and cold. At least some of his initial anger had subsided. All the latent emotion had been giving Jaycen a headache.

"Right." Jaycen ran a hand over his face and repeated the word a few more times for good measure, a chill running up his spine as he thought about his own hands and their terrible potential. "Okay. Fine."

He stood, running his hand along the terminal in the center of the room as he walked forward to face his companions. It was better to look them in the eye when addressing them, to make sure they knew that he, as their leader... That he took them seriously. He wasn't even sure when he had taken charge of this expedition anyway, but... Well.

Well, now it made sense that he had.

"I don't want to be the bearer of bad news. It's never pleasant to have to say these sorts of things," Jaycen said, even as he realized he wasn't certain what "these sorts of things" really were. Terrible, system-shifting secrets, perhaps? "The truth is that I'm not actually Casus Jaycen."

His companions looked befuddled, except for Jolee who snorted and fixed him with a pointed look.

No one said a word.

Onasi cleared his throat.

"Well then, uh," Mission, bless her, was brave enough to break the silence, her gaze more curious than accusatory. "If you're not Jayce, who are?"

If he were being honest with them about his thoughts, he would have admitted how complicated that answer actually was. He didn't actually know, because by all means Casus Jaycen was a good person, a person who genuinely cared about helping others and doing the right thing, even if the personal cost was high. But Casus Jaycen was birthed in an explosion that had nearly taken the life of the wicked man whose body he shared, was born of his latent experiences and memories, and perhaps of the kernel of kindness that still existed in him from when he had fought for the ideals of an entire galaxy.

So who was he? He couldn't really say, but that answer wouldn't satisfy Onasi and it wouldn't do him any good to give it because it wouldn't actually protect any of his companions from anything. They had a right to know the truth and to decide how it would shape their actions.

So he spoke.

"Revan."

Even as he said it, he could feel how familiar it felt on his tongue, like the weight of the word was one he'd wrestled with before. He wanted it to feel alien so he could go on pretending that he hadn't been the Dark Lord, but that was beyond him now. As difficult as the struggle to accept it was he could sense through the Force that it was the truth.

His companions seemed stunned, at first, the Ebon Hawk filling with a different sort of silence thick with the electricity of anticipation. None of them were sure what to think or say, he was certain. When he'd first heard it, it had hit him like a charging Bantha and then settled in his gut like a familiar but unpleasant stone, the sort of truth that one bore on their back like a burden. They didn't have to bear that burden, though. If they wanted to leave, he would let them. He would even pay to shuttle them off of Korriban, if he had to.

No one should have to be forced to live around the man who had ruined their lives, to take orders from that man and to fight side by side with him in combat, even if that man had been reborn, even if he was no longer Revan in the sense that many of them remembered. He wouldn't demand such a thing of anyone, no matter how important their mission.

If he needed to, he would find the remaining Star Map and save Bastilla alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaycen tipped his head back, taking in the darkness around them as they descended deep into the Shadowlands. At his side he could feel Bastilla’s presence, even with his eyes closed. There were other things he could sense in the darkness, black things, malevolent things, things that sent phantom waves of hatred and rage twisting through his gut like a sickness.

“At first,” he said in a soft voice, loud enough that only Bastilla could hear, “I thought that Malak wanted you dead. But now I am not so certain.”

“What do you mean?”

He could feel her dark eyes on him, eyes that were so shrewd, that had a way of piercing like a vibroblade. They were eyes he admired, but now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. She had already put an end to whatever could have been between them, and it was best not to dwell on could have beens, no matter how the wound still ached.

“I sense their intentions when we do battle. They mean to incapacitate you. Their hatred is directed toward me.”

Jayce cracked open his eyes to find her staring at him, her mouth opening and closing as she floundered for words. She knew he was right, but he was observant, more observant than many gave him credit for, including her.

“You are not wrong,” she said, resolved, it seemed, to say nothing else.

He would get nothing more from her.

The familiar sense of disquiet filled him again, swelling up in his chest. Jayce had been, for better or for worse, trying to deny these feelings, these ghostly memories of could have beens and maybes that taunted him like shadows just outside his remembrance.

But he couldn’t deny them any longer. For all she tried to hide, for all the Jedi Council on Dantooine had tried to caution him, Jaycen was beginning to suspect the truth was far darker than he had ever imagined it to be. Some comparisons, things others noticed about him, did nothing to put his restless spirit at ease.

Revan the Genius. Revan the Hero. Revan the Butcher, the hated Revan, the Dark Lord who left death and despair in his wake.

Revan the Lost.

Jayce looked toward the forest ceiling again, his thoughts lost in the dark canopy of trees above. Besides him Bastilla shifted, uncertainty and guilt pulsing from her aura like a beacon, a warning, the feelings she had not learned to mask, not from him.

He couldn’t deny it any longer.

At least, not to himself.


End file.
